


Of Angels & Men

by Blood_Red_Iris



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_Red_Iris/pseuds/Blood_Red_Iris
Summary: When Sam and Dean get a call from an old family friend asking for help, they rush to Meadowfield, Colorado expecting demons, plagues, or curses. What they find instead is far more intimidating, and could lead to the restarting of the very apocalypse they just risked everything to stop.And it’s taken the shape of a heart-wrenchingly innocent girl.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read: This story has spoilers from seasons 1-5, and storyline changes throughout said seasons before it splits off from the show almost entirely.

_ Floating. _

_ Weightless. _

_ Drifting. _

_ Falling. _

Serafina came to consciousness slowly, aware only that this was the first time she’d ever felt anchored to anything. She was not free as she had been before, and was almost overwhelmed by the many sensations fighting for her attention. There was a faint swirling motion happening inside of her -  _ dizziness _ she thought it was called - that was quite uncomfortable, and another feeling she did not know how to describe that made her tremble. She was distracted from the all over trembling by something lower down than where the dizziness was taking place. It was more uncomfortable. It…  _ burned .  _ No, it  _ ached .  _ That was it. Her chest was aching. There was a solution to this aching, she knew, but it was a moment before she figured out what that was.

A sudden rush replaced the ache in her chest as Serafina first drew breath. She didn’t think she’d ever  _ breathed _ before. It was a wholly new sensation and utterly beautiful. It brought to life so many more feelings and sensations like  _ smell . _ The air was heavy and thick and warm and…  _ damp _ . No, not damp, more than that. There was a soft pittering that filled her ears, and a constant tapping all over that had been there since she woke. It was - she was -  _ wet _ . She thought maybe this wetness was why she was trembling so violently, but that didn’t seem quite right.

Trembling.

_ Shivering . _

_ Cold . _

She was cold, and cold didn't feel good. Slowly, she opened her eyes, but shut them quickly when the falling wetness hit them. That didn't feel good either. Why was she here? Where was here? What was weighing her down, making her so  _ heavy _ ? Why had she been thrown into this place full of things that were not good?

“Oh my God!” It was a sound, but a sound that made sense, that conveyed something. A  _ word . _ That was it. Something had used a word. 

“What is it Vic- holy shit!” More words, but a different sound; a different _ voice _ . Something that was not the wetness touched her. It was the opposite of the wetness. Not cold, but  _ warm _ , and good. But it was brief. “Thank God, she's alive! Vicky, call Old Man Ryan. His cabin is the closest shelter.”

Serafina heard strange sounds that were not words, but her mind was swept away from them as The Warmth wrapped around her and she was floating again. Floating with The Warmth was good, it made her want to stay there forever. To illustrate this to The Warmth, she curled closer to it, touching as much of it as she could.

“It's going to be alright.” These words were quiet, but she could feel them now, emanating from The Warmth, as well as hear them. “Can you hear me? Can you answer me?”

_ Answer _ ? Serafina mulled over what the word might mean, what the voice of The Warmth was requesting of her.  _ Answer _ .

“He didn't pick up. We're just going to have surprise him and hope for the best.” Floating turned to drifting as the voice that belonged to Not-The-Warmth filled her ears. She could not feel it like she felt it when the warmth used words.

“Try again. Maybe he couldn't get to the phone to answer in time.” There was that word again:  _ answer . _ The Warmth seemed to think the word was good, why else would it use it repeatedly? Serafina decided she liked the word too, even if she didn't understand its meaning. It had a good sort of sound. “I’d rather not get shot.”

The not-word sounds were made again, but they were still lost to Serafina as a bigger, all encompassing sound was made. She could feel it, like she had felt the words of The Warmth, but she didn't like it as much. It was too big; too much _.  _ She grasped for a word to describe it, and found it as the sound surrounded her again. It was  _ loud _ . __ She pressed herself closer to The Warmth, taking comfort in the feeling of touch. “We're almost there.”

The loud sound happened repeatedly, and left Serafina with a deep feeling of unease. It was a decidedly not-good sound, and her dislike of it was not in the least lessened by the sudden flashes that punctuated it. She wanted it to… she wanted it to….

She wasn't sure what she wanted it to do. What she was sure of was that being present was hard. She missed the peace of simply being, with no need for words or descriptions, for thoughts or sounds. 

The constant all-over tapping of the falling wetness came to a sudden stop, breaking Serafina from her confusing thoughts. There was another noise, similar to the all-encompassing too loud sound that had been happening, but this noise was directly in front of her, and it did not cease like its predecessor. 

It was too much for her, the big noises, the smells, the feelings and thoughts; Serafina was glad to let herself slip back into the simple surrounding darkness she'd come from.

* * *

 

Charles Wade Ryan had blissfully slept quite soundly all the way through his phone ringing, twice. However, the insistent pounding and nearly panicked yelling emanating from his doorstep was enough to drag him into a state of somewhat-consciousness. 

Unhurriedly, he rose from his chair and stretched, his old joints creaking and popping as he did. The commotion had only gotten louder in the short moments it had taken him to stretch and grab his cane, and for  _ him _ , a nearly deaf old man, to say that it was anything close to loud was really saying something.

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” He grumbled as he limped towards the door. He really had gotten too old for all this: demons, ghosts, and panicked youngsters. Unfortunately, retirement from his job required something rather drastic.

The door swung open on a pair of familiar faces, a couple of kids that hiked up in these parts frequently. They were drenched from the storm that was raging around them, and in the arms of the boy was an unconscious young woman that was… indescribable. Even muddied and looking like she was half-drowned she was beautiful. If he had to take a guess, she was the reason for their panicked state, not the storm. 

With a sigh, he stood aside and let them in. There were repeated apologies and thanks, and even a couple of  _ thank God _ ’s thrown in for good measure from the young couple, but Charles brushed them off. 

“Put her on the couch.” He instructed. His lack of fuss seemed to settle the panicked couple some, if only by a fraction. “Assuming she's still breathing, that is.”

“She is.” The boy replied as he laid her down. Victor, Charles thought his name was. Unless the girl was Victoria. He couldn't remember now. While living alone and out of the way certainly had its advantages, it also had its drawbacks, like not being able to remember anyone's names. Though that might have been age. 

With another heavy sigh, Charles limped off to find some dry things for the girl. She was a tiny thing, but some of his wife's old clothes would have to do, along with a thick blanket or two. There was no doubt in his mind that she was something  _ other _ , but until he could figure out just what that was, there was no sense in being inhospitable. At least, that's what his wife would have told him were she still around. 

He had the hiker girl, who he figured out was, in fact, named Victoria, clean up and change the unconscious girl while her boyfriend, apparently named Mitch, go get some firewood from the shed. Charles spent that time heating up some canned soup from his pantry. The girl might be unconscious, but he had two other kids in his house that were still cold, wet, and had taken a shock to their system. 

One fire, three bowls of soup, and a fake call to a not-doctor later, the storm had come to an end. Charles stood at his door with Victoria and Mitch, trying to shoo them out. “Really,” he assured them “I'm sure the doc will be here any time now to check her out. I can handle her until then. And you best not linger, it looks like another storm is coming.”

As thunder rolled in the distance, confirming his statement, the kids finally submitted. They showered him with thanks and we'll wishes, gave him their numbers so he could call if he needed anything at all, and finally went on their way.

It was with a great sigh of relief that Charles closed his door. He didn't much like having innocent people involved in the darkness that consumed his life. The same darkness he was sure the sleeping girl on his couch was deeply rooted in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Just a little request before you go: Please, please, don't demand for me to update. I understand that you might want to read more, and if you do I'm glad! But I have an extremely busy life and don't always have the time to write like I want to. This is an issue I've had in the past on other sites, and it has, in the long run, caused me to stop wanting to work on the story.


End file.
